The Return of Jack Raydor and Other Big Headaches
by Nevada11
Summary: Set after "Return to Sender II" (and containing spoilers for that episode), "The Return of Jack Raydor and Other Big Headaches" is my attempt to resolve Sharon Raydor's complicated private life. This is my first time posting chapters as I write them. Might be my last. I don't know how many chapters total. The "M" rating is mostly for language. Follows - "Migraines" & "Flash Floods"
1. Chapter 1

The doorbell? Her bedside clock declared the time as 3:00 am. At first Sharon didn't understand what had awakened her; she'd only been in bed a few hours. She was exhausted and with good reason. It had been a very long day, an even longer week.

Rusty was finally home, his witness testimony against Phillip Stroh on the record. There would be no reason now for Stroh to send anyone else to threaten him. Thanks to Provenza, the letter-writer was dead, so Rusty's life could go back to normal – whatever that might end up being. And thanks to an unexpected spark of goodwill on Chief Taylor's part, she was taking seven consecutive days of vacation time. She had planned to spend the next eight to ten hours of that sleeping.

The doorbell rang again. And again.

So much for plans.

She sat up quickly and grabbed her robe and glasses. Who in the world would be...

She figured it out even before looking through the peephole.

Jack Raydor. Her soon to be ex-husband was outside her door.

She could feel a headache starting.

* * *

"Can I come in?" Jack's face was flushed and sweaty, his hair disheveled. He had a leather weekender slung over one shoulder and a battered briefcase in his left hand. His right hand held a key, a key that no longer unlocked her door as he'd just discovered.

"No." She stood in front of him, one hand on the door and the other on the door frame. "It's three a.m. and you don't live here anymore. If you want to see me, call ahead and we'll meet in my office downtown."

Jack sighed. "Sharon, please. It was a long drive from Vegas and I'm not feeling up to a fight. Could we just skip ahead to the part where you give in and let me sleep on your couch? You can always toss me out tomorrow. We have things to discuss."

"We have only one thing to discuss. Have you signed the divorce papers?"

"That's what I want to talk about," Jack said. He set down his suitcase and braced himself against the door frame, his hand over hers. "No kidding, I really don't feel..."

"Jack?" She reached out and caught him as he passed out.

He was too heavy for her to hold up, but she managed to slow his descent to the floor. The irony of the situation didn't escape her. She'd done much the same thing for the last 20 years, but the result was always the same. She'd never been strong enough to keep him from hitting rock bottom.

* * *

"I'll lift his shoulders, you take his feet."

She'd had to wake up the teen for help in getting Jack the rest of way inside her condo.

"Sofa?" Rusty asked, backing into the living room, his grip on Jack's shoulders and arms slipping. "Man, he weighs a ton."

"Gluten-free doesn't mean calorie free," Sharon mumbled, her hands gripping Jack ankles. "Sofa is fine."

"At least he's still breathing and we don't have to do CPR. Should we call an ambulance?" Rusty dropped Jack on the sofa and then helped Sharon swing the man's legs onto the cushions.

"Definitely an ambulance!" She punched in 911 on her cell phone. "Someone else is going to have to take care of him. This is the last time I'm dealing with any of Jack's emergencies."

* * *

"Brain tumor? You've got to be kidding me!" Andy Flynn slammed the file he was holding down on his desk. "Did you talk to Sharon?"

Provenza frowned. "No, just got a text from the kid. They've been at Cedars all night with old Jack. Some of the tests have come back. Best guess is a brain tumor. And at least stop calling her _Sharon_ at work."

"This is all Sharon...the Captain...needs." Flynn rubbed the back of his neck. "She was finally getting rid of the bastard and he pulls this? Gotta be a scam."

Provenza read an incoming text. "Some scam. Doctors want to cut open his skull and dig it out. In my book that's a bit much just to get back at your ex."

"I doubt it's beyond Jack Raydor." Flynn slammed a desk drawer shut. "Sorry SOB probably didn't even sign the divorce papers. Now she'll feel responsible for his pitiful ass. Hey, ask Rusty what kind of odds they are giving him. He could croak on the table. Maybe there's still a silver lining to this whole mess."

"Hell, Flynn, try to be a little more sensitive. I'm not asking Rusty that in a text." Provenza got to his feet. "Let's drive over there and ask in person. Maybe grab some lunch in the cafeteria."

"What about our murder?"

"Not a problem. I'm in charge and we've got some free time. Tao and Sanchez are on their way back from the Douglas crime scene. Since he essentially confessed, they arrested the next-door neighbor. Guy claimed our victim's German shepherd killed his prize rose bushes. So the neighbor killed the victim in retaliation. He's claiming justifiable homicide."

"Why didn't he just kill the dog?" Flynn pulled on his jacket.

"Says he's a member of PETA. They frown on that," Provenza answered.

"They don't frown on killing people?"

"Not really." Provenza motioned towards the door. "Come on, let's go. We need to be back for the autopsy later this afternoon. Make sure the victim died of that pesticide the neighbor claimed to have put in his beer."

"What about the dog?"

"He's fine. Apparently prefers peeing on roses to drinking beer."

"Sadly," Flynn pushed the elevator button, "from my drinking days, I know one is not exclusive of the other. Did I ever mention my ex-wife's flower garden?"


	2. Chapter 2

Leaning on the counter at the nurses' station, Sharon studied the forms requiring her signature. She would love to call Jack's brother and place the burden on him, but he'd washed his hands of Jack years ago. She knew he'd toss the decision back to her.

Jack was sick. Really sick. She was having trouble wrapping her mind around what the doctors had told her. A slow growing tumor, maybe cancer, maybe not. Either way it had to come out, right now.

Sharon could hear Rusty's sneakers squeaking on the polished tiles behind her. She didn't think he'd stopped moving since they'd arrived at the hospital a few minutes after the ambulance. The constant squeaking was driving her nuts.

"Rusty, please go get a soda or something. I need to concentrate."

"I'm not thirsty." He stood behind her and looked over her shoulder. "Sharon, what are you going to do? You're not really going to let them cut into Jack's head are you? Aren't you supposed to get a second opinion? Have you ever heard of Dr. House? That guy never gets it right the first time. Doctors don't always know what they are doing."

She didn't know how to reassure him about the medical profession. And obviously despite her best efforts, Rusty had become attached to her ex-husband. "Oh, Rusty. That's not—"

"Hey, Captain. The kid's right. But, and this is something important to remember, if you have good health insurance, they'll be happy to experiment on you. Believe me, I lost a perfectly good gall bladder that way."

Sharon turned, surprised yet strangely relieved to hear the Lieutenant's voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Provenza cleared his throat. "We—"

Seeing Andy Flynn turning the corner, chatting up a young nurse, Sharon frowned and interrupted Provenza, keeping one eye on Flynn. "And more importantly, if both you and Lieutenant Flynn are here, who is minding the store?"

"The store is fine. Major Crimes rolled out on a case last night. Just a simple murder and we've already got it wrapped up."

She narrowed her eyes. "You have a suspect?"

Provenza checked his watch. "Yes, he's still in transit."

"But—"

"No buts." Provenza smiled. "At the moment Flynn and I are on an extended lunch break. Union rules, Captain! Union rules. We missed dinner yesterday so we're making up for it now." Provenza reached out and clapped a hand on Rusty's shoulder. "Thought maybe the kid might be hungry too."

Rusty sighed. "I could eat. But not the sandwiches in the vending machines. Already tried one and it was nasty. The chicken salad sandwich alone is probably responsible for a zillion deaths."

"Lieutenant! Who's running my murder room?" Lunch or no lunch, she couldn't have both of her on-duty senior detectives hanging around the hospital with her. Chief Taylor would have her job if he found out.

"Hang on a minute!" Provenza pulled out his wallet and handed Rusty two twenty dollar bills." Go find the cafeteria and get us all some lunch. No mystery meat."

"But..." Rusty looked at the money then at Sharon.

"Go honey, food would be a big help." Sharon smiled to reassure the teen. "I'll text you if something happens."

"Okay, but don't forget what I said about surgeons." Rusty stalked off, his sneakers squeaking with every other step.

Her headache was full-fledged and demanding her attention. "Lieutenant? Now, please explain."

"Tao has it covered. We've already made an arrest and now we're waiting for Morales to do his thing. Don't worry about work. Seems to me you've got enough to deal with on the personal front. How's your husband?"

"He's not my...I don't know. I don't... know...anything." She sighed and looked down at the papers in her hand. "They want me to allow them to operate. I don't know what to do. I'm not even sure if we're still married. Jack could have signed the divorce papers and filed them without letting me know. It could be days before the court mails me my copies. I don't know if I'm authorized to give consent. The surgery is risky and even if he makes it through the actual operation, he might never...I just don't know the right thing to do."

"Hey, if it's not you making the call, I'm guessing it would be one of your kids. Next of kin would be your son or daughter. But you don't want them making this decision," Flynn said, joining the group at the nurses' station. "From what I can gather from the nursing staff, this is really a no-brainer choice, it..."

They both stared at him in horror.

"Flynn!" Provenza barked. "For God's sake."

"What?" Andy blushed. "Oh, right, poor choice of words. I didn't mean it like that, Sharon. Bottom line is that Jack Raydor has no chance of recovery if he doesn't have this surgery. So the best thing you can do for him is sign the permission slips and let the surgeons do their jobs."

She nodded. "I know you're right about my kids, but—"

Provenza touched her shoulder, directing her attention down the long hallway. "Looks like time is up. The odd little guy in the scrubs glaring at you, is that Jack's doctor?"

"Yes." She sighed. "I... what if they're wrong. Rusty said...Have either of you heard of a Doctor House?"

"Sure. He's—" Flynn was interrupted again.

"Forget him. Wrong specialty." Provenza shrugged. "Besides in this situation you don't have time to shop around for doctors. And for now ignore the divorce. If I was in Jack's shoes, I wouldn't want anyone but you making this decision."

Flynn nodded. "Louie is right. Remember Jack's a gambler Sharon. He'd bet on the surgery. You know he would."

"Okay. Thanks." She looked down at the forms, then back up at both men. "Really, thank you both for your support."

She laid the papers on the counter and quickly signed them.

* * *

They watched her walk down the hallway to meet the surgeon.

"What kind of odds are they giving him?" Provenza asked.

"1 in 7"

Provenza sighed. "Poor bastard. He might have been a gambler, but he usually left the table with nothing."

"Yeah." Flynn gave his partner a sideways glance. "Let me ask you something. You know who Dr. House is?"

"Sure. Wouldn't want to be one of his patients though. Rusty and I watched a whole bunch of episodes in a row the Saturday he stayed with me. The experience might have soured him on doctors. Me? I was already soured on them."

"Back up! You and Rusty? A weekend marathon?"

"Don't be silly, Flynn. You know I don't run."


	3. Chapter 3

The vinyl covered sofa in the surgical waiting room was too short for Rusty to stretch out on so he was draped half on and half off, his face buried in the back seat cushion, his bottom slightly raised and his toes dug deep into the carpet. His position reminded Sharon of an Alpine skier at a race, leaning forward, waiting for the sound of starter's gun.

She was waiting too, but unlike Rusty, she hadn't been able to nap. She checked her watch. Jack had been in surgery almost eight hours. She had no idea if that was normal for this type of operation or not. Her lieutenants had returned to the station at her insistence right after they had eaten the cheeseburgers and French fries that Rusty had procured with Provenza's money. Seven hours since their impromptu lunch. Five hours since Rusty fell asleep. Four hours since a nurse told her the surgery was going well. Three hours since Andy called for an update. One hour since the same nurse had told her that Jack's tumor was benign.

Benign. What did that even mean? It might not have been cancer, but it was hardly benign. It might have been responsible for ruining her life and she hadn't even known it was there.

Something the size of a large walnut had been growing in Jack's head for years, maybe decades. Dr. Ellison said it could have caused a myriad of problems, including personality and mood changes. It could have been the reason Jack couldn't control his temper; couldn't hold down a job for more than a few months at a time.

She had been sitting in the waiting room going over the past twenty-five years, trying to pinpoint a moment when the Jack she married became: Jack the addict, Jack the man with no interest in his chosen profession, and Jack the man who didn't love her or their children. Her best detective skills couldn't pinpoint it any closer than sometime during the second year after Ricky was born.

"Mrs. Raydor?"

She looked up, swallowing her objection to the title. "Yes."

Jack's surgeon was standing in front of her. He looked exhausted, pale. She suspected her appearance was little better. Both of them spent too much time under fluorescent lights.

"It's done. He made it through the surgery."

"How is he? The tumor?"

"He's stable. But the next 48 hours will be critical. The tumor is gone." He sat down next to her. "I know you must have a lot of questions, but it's going to be a slow recovery for Mr. Raydor. There may be some permanent cognitive function impairment. Some weakness on his left side. We'll just have to wait and see. He might surprise both of us."

She doubted that anything Jack Raydor might do would surprise her. And she'd had more than her fill of waiting on him. But, damn it, that part of her life was over! She got to her feet, ignoring the small voice in her head, the one saying she was fooling herself.

"Doctor, you're right about the questions. But I'm too exhausted to make sense of the answers tonight." She motioned towards the teen sleeping nearby. "I'm going to take my son home for the night. Maybe we can talk tomorrow about what comes next."

* * *

He was surprised to get her phone call. Even more surprised when she asked to come over to his place. She'd never been there before.

Andy Flynn stowed the vacuum cleaner in the utility closet of his one bedroom apartment. He checked once more that all was tidy in the bathroom. He'd already changed the sheets on his bed. Not that he really thought Sharon Raydor was ever going to see those sheets. Hell, he hadn't even kissed her yet, but he liked to keep all his options open. They had been out a couple of times: dinner, Nicole's wedding, and The Nutcracker at Christmas. And just last week they'd had lunch together, just the two of them, at his favorite Chinese restaurant. Yes, it had been a place just across from the Chess Park. And she might have been kind of checking up on Rusty and the SIS stakeout, but he thought they'd shared more than just some eggrolls.

Maybe he should buy new pillows. A new comforter. Something without a sports logo.

Provenza's voice whispered in his head. "Right,_ Field of Dreams_, Flynn. Build it and she will come? Get over yourself."

"Stay out of my head, old man," Andy mumbled, wondering if he should change from his faded jeans and t-shirt to a dress shirt and slacks.

The sound of his doorbell gave him his answer.

* * *

"More tea?" He got up from his chair and reached for her empty cup.

"No, thank you." She waved him off, settling back against the cushions and tugging at her black pencil skirt. The skirt had seemed like a good idea when she got the bright idea to visit him, she knew he liked it when she wore it at work, but now she wished she'd gone with something more casual.

Sharon almost said yes to more tea, just to buy time, but that would have been three cups. She didn't need any more caffeine. She was getting more jittery by the second. It was past midnight. They had discussed the current murder case, Jack's operation, Rusty's upcoming calculus test, shopping for his daughter's birthday gift, a sale at Macys on comforters, and the best way to clean grout. She'd even made a stab at talking baseball with him. The one thing they hadn't talked about was why she was sitting on his sofa at this late hour on a Tuesday night.

She was trying to find a way to broach the subject. For some reason it was a lot harder than she'd imagined. Andy wasn't helping. He'd totally ignored any of the signs she'd given him that she was ready to fast track their budding relationship. A few seconds ago she'd caught him hiding a yawn. She might as well admit it, she'd forgotten how to do this, if she'd ever really known. Jack had never needed any encouragement, he'd always been about five steps ahead of her. She'd ended up engaged and pregnant without a lot of prior planning on her part. Who knows what Jack had been thinking. But that had been 25 years ago. She wasn't that same naïve college freshman in awe of the fun-loving frat boy bound for law school.

"I think I have some brownies," Andy said, bouncing up from his chair again and heading to the kitchen. "I should have offered them earlier."

God this was painful. She didn't want any brownies. She didn't want any more tea. She must be giving off the wrong vibes.

Still in the kitchen, his voice filtered back to her.

"How about a sandwich? I have some pastrami."

She shook her head, then realized she would have to yell back.

"I thought you were a vegetarian?"

"Only part-time. My doctor is encouraging me to widen my food groups."

"With pastrami?"

"He didn't specify. So I just went with what looked good at the grocery the other day."

She glanced down at her red plaid blouse and undid a couple of buttons.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"It's me."

"Me who? Speak up!"

"It's me, Andy. I can't talk any louder."

"Andy who? Flynn? What the hell? What time is it?"

"It's late. Were you asleep?"

"No, I was clubbing! What do you think I was doing?"

"Sorry. Listen, there's a thing."

"There's what?"

"A thing. Well...a woman."

"A woman?"

"Yeah, in my living room."

"Congratulations, what do you want? A prize?"

"No. Advice."

"From me? Fine. Where are you?"

"Bathroom."

"You're hiding in the bathroom? My advice, stop. Get back out there."

"I can't. It's complicated."

"Flynn, you don't need a how-to-manual. I've seen you in action, remember. I'm hanging up."

"No, no. Louie, wait."

"Well, get to it. I'm not getting any younger."

"It's Sharon."

"Who? Wait, the Captain? The Captain is in your living room? Right now?"

"Yes, and I think maybe she wants, you know."

"No, I don't know and we're not having this conversation. I've warned you this 'thing' you have for her was a bad idea. Now boy-o you're just going to have to deal with the consequences."

"But what if I'm wrong. Maybe she's just upset about her husband."

"They're divorced, or as good as. And of course she's upset. You should march out there and send her home with a pat on the head and a Tupperware container of that pasta you keep in your freezer."

"Huh? No! This might be my big chance! You want me to screw it up?"

"All I want is to go back to sleep. You can give me the post-game highlights tomorrow. Goodnight!"

"Louie? Don't hang up. Louie?"

"Damn."

* * *

He was taking a long time in the bathroom.

Sharon kicked off her heels and got up from the sofa. His apartment was larger than most one-bedroom units. It was on the second floor of an older building and the rooms were good-sized, the ceilings high. The windows looked new. They were large, covered with wooden blinds. The walls were cream-colored. Framed photographs of his kids were on the wall. His furniture was well-used, but comfortable. The flat screen television was twice the size of hers. Rusty would appreciate it. The apartment was felt cozy, clean, and peaceful. She knew Andy had his demons, but they weren't on display in his home.

She glanced in the kitchen. Lots of shiny pots and pans. Tall, clear glass jars of dry noodles, spaghetti, and macaroni. A wire basket held onions. There was a large ceramic bowl filled with apples and oranges. He had a bread machine. She'd never dated anyone who made their own bread. Jack was good with breakfast foods and he was competent with a barbeque grill, but that was about it. A row of well-worn cookbooks confirmed her suspicions. Her lieutenant had a serious relationship with food.

The bedroom door was open. A queen-sized bed was in the center of the room, a tacky sports-themed comforter covering it. The bathroom and closets were on the right. The outside wall had two large windows flanking a leather lounge chair and ottoman. A reading light was positioned next to the chair.

Sharon walked into the room, her bare feet sinking into the deep pile, caramel-colored carpet. A book was tossed on the seat cushion. Feeling only slightly guilty, she picked it up and read the dust jacket. It was a mystery. The title one she recognized as being on the current New York Times best-seller list. She might have to ask to borrow it when he finished.

"Right, like you have time read. Maybe after Rusty starts college."

She sat down on the bed, the book in her hand. It would be nice to escape into a fictional mystery, knowing that the clues would all add up in the end, the killer would be caught, and the detective would survive to live and love another day in the sequel. Her life was messier than that. But she was ready to make some changes. She deserved a sequel. Being here, surrounded by his things, reinforced her decision. She wanted to know if what she was feeling for Andy was more than friendship. But it wasn't going to happen without his cooperation.

Smiling, she looked towards the closed bathroom door. She could hear him whispering on the phone with someone. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was nervous. Maybe she should have taken the pastrami sandwich, given him more time to catch up.

Or perhaps she should have only undone one button. She smiled and glanced down. A wonder bra was a powerful thing. Judging from Andy's rapid retreat into the bathroom after getting a look, she might have miscalculated its effect.


	5. Chapter 5

"Sharon, I'm sorry I guess that diet change was too sudden. I—" Andy rushed into the living room to find the sofa empty. "Sharon?"

He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with pastrami. He made a 360 degree turn to confirm what he already knew. She was gone. "Oh, damn it."

Grabbing his cell phone off the coffee table, he debated calling her. Maybe she was still in the parking lot. But what would he say? What could he tell her? He didn't even know why he froze. And that's what he'd done. Froze. It was like Christmas morning and you'd realized you might get the one thing you'd never even had the courage to ask for...it was suddenly there within reach. When he'd seen Sharon sitting on his sofa, blouse undone, smiling at him in a way he—"

"Andy? Are you feeling okay?"

Her voice came from behind him. He whirled and blinked twice to make sure he wasn't seeing a mirage. "Where were you? I was afraid you'd left."

"Your closet. I felt like changing into something a lot more comfortable. I hope you don't mind." She was wearing one of his baseball shirts and from what he could tell, very little else.

"I...I don't mind." Okay there was no misreading this signal. He should have at least brushed his teeth while he was hiding in the bathroom.

"What are you thinking?" Sharon asked, walking closer to him.

"Uh." He rubbed the back of his neck.

Reaching out she patted his arm. "Andy, we seem to be having a slight communication problem. Humor me. Just tell me what you are thinking at this very moment."

"This very moment I was thinking..." He swallowed hard. "I was thinking Christmas came late this year."

"And?"

He smiled. "And you're not as tall as I thought you were."

"No shoes."

"Right." He stepped back and looked down at her bare feet. She had on shiny bright red polish. He hadn't expected that.

"Andy?"

"Yeah?" He looked up, his eyes traveling up her legs, pausing at her chest and the soft mounds revealed by the worn fabric, then finally settling on her face.

She took a step and closed the distance between them. "It's been a long time for me. Obviously I'm not doing something right. How do I get you to kiss me?"

"Just keep looking at me like that." He slid one hand around her waist and used the other to cup the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her long hair. "You didn't do anything wrong, I just didn't want to screw this up."

She smiled. "I want to spend the rest of tonight with you."

"Yeah?" Holding her, he forgot about being nervous. He stopped worrying about what would happen afterward.

"This would be a good time to kiss me," she whispered, putting her arms around his neck.

Brushing his lips against hers, he paused, then softly rained kisses across her face, moving back to allow his tongue to leisurely dip inside her mouth.

Sweet. She tasted like oranges. Probably due to the tea. He slid his hand under the t-shirt she'd stolen from him, running his hand up her bare back. So soft. So warm.

He wanted this moment to last forever.

She obviously had other ideas.

He felt her hand leave his neck, her fingers suddenly at his waistband, tugging on the button of his jeans.

* * *

Sharon had closed her eyes at the moment Andy finally kissed her, but before she could begin to enjoy the sensation, he stopped. He stroked the hair at her temple, feathering soft kisses on her cheeks and forehead.

"Andy." She pushed closer to him, opening her mouth and finding his. For a second things were moving along nicely with his hand exploring her back. Then again he stopped kissing her and just held her against him.

She could feel how much he wanted her. The evidence was pressing against her stomach, but he didn't seem to feel any urgency to act.

She sighed. Letting him direct her sequel wasn't working. If he continued at this pace, all the things in her life that she was trying to outrun would catch up and overwhelm her. She had no idea why, but she was absolutely convinced that they had only a small window of opportunity to move from friends to lovers.

This was the moment for her to escape the whirling morass of her life. She needed Andy to follow her through that window. She wanted hot, sweaty, and passionate sex. And she wanted it now.

Pushing her hand inside his jeans and cupping him, she stood on tiptoe and whispered her immediate intentions into his ear. If he was going to faint on her, better to know now.

"Oh, god. Uh, Sharon!" The way he said her name was close to a growl.

She stroked him, gauging his readiness as the flesh she was holding hardened and jerked against her fingers. "Is that a yes?"

He blushed, then laughed. "Are you sure? Cause I was really trying to be romantic."

She grinned and removed her hand from his pants. "I'll let you impress me with flowers and chocolates another time. Right now, could we just go to bed?"

"Yes, ma'am." He swung her up into his arms and carried into his bedroom.

* * *

"Sharon, are you awake?"

It had been a very long time since she'd woken to the feel of a warm, naked body snuggled up behind her, a man's hand lightly squeezing her breast, fingers stroking her nipple.

"No." As much as she'd enjoyed the last few hours, the soreness between her thighs reminded her just how much, she wanted to sleep now and bask in the afterglow.

"Could I persuade you to reconsider? Seems a shame to waste time. Our phones could start ringing any minute." He moved his hand to her other breast.

"Andy, honey, can't you sleep?" Lord knows she didn't want to discourage him after the effort required to get him going, but she wasn't twenty-five any more. That in combination with the long day at the hospital, she could barely keep her eyes open.

His leg moved between hers. Fitting her body even closer to his.

"No. I can't sleep."

She pushed back against him. "Try."

He sighed dramatically, then kissed her shoulder before he whispered, "I'm afraid to shut my eyes, in case this is just a dream."

"No dream." She hummed as he trailed his fingers from her breast to stomach, then lower to the place he'd already spent a considerable amount of time. "Later." She caught his hand, joining her fingers with his, pulling his arm up and around her. "Sleep now. I promise I'll be here in the morning."

"One question," he mumbled, his mouth hot and damp against the side of her neck. "Just to clarify. Have we moved from hot and passionate back to romantic?"

His words made her smile. She bent her head and kissed the hand she had taken prisoner. "No. Lieutenant. This is just an intermission."


End file.
